


Something Something Stealing My Heart Something Something

by BishopDeaconCardinal



Series: Etc Etc Etc [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bank Robbery, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, F/M, Heist, Kinda, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mutual Masturbation, Public Sex, Sexual Fantasy, bank robbery AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BishopDeaconCardinal/pseuds/BishopDeaconCardinal
Summary: Deacon was a good get away driver. Well they hadn't been caught yet. And after every heist Blue and Hancock (if that is their real name...it's not) have their ritual, he and Mac have theirs. None of them really talk about it.
Relationships: Deacon/Robert Joseph MacCready, John Hancock/Female Sole Survivor
Series: Etc Etc Etc [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914076
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	Something Something Stealing My Heart Something Something

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to jaspurrlock for reminding me how much I fucking love heist/bank robbery au things.
> 
> and locketofyourhair, fuckin nerd

Deacon tapped the muzzle of his gun against the car window. The clink sound was strangely specific to the metal on glass and he found that nothing else quite copied it. He sort of liked the rain ambiance in the background too. 

The alarm sounding across the street broke up his gentle tapping and he sighed, pulling his seat belt across his chest and unlocking the car. He turned the car on and adjusted his mirrors. He guesses whoever's car this is was shorter than him. He carefully pulled out of the street parking and double checked that his gun was safely in the cup holder. 

He stopped the car on the wrong side of the road facing traffic, had there been any, and kept his foot on the break before chuckling to himself and unlocking the doors again. He forgets with these models that they re-lock once put into drive. 

The front doors of the bank flew upon, glass shattering in the wake of three figures running out. Holding a disgusting amount of money in bags, more in the backpacks on their backs they nearly tripped over themselves getting into the car. 

Before the door was fully closed Deacon slammed onto the gas and they rocketed down the road, waking up the small town like the beach in peace of mind it was. 

Deacon listened to the V6 engine compensate and kick into gear. It wasn't the fastest car, sure, but it was a damn site faster then the Crown Victoria's this crap town still had kicking from the 90's. Besides, they may have a slightly better engine, if maintained correctly which he doubts, but he knew what the fuck he was doing.

He kicked it around the corner of a one way before swerving it back across an alleyway that led into a parking lot and throwing the car through the helpful traffic cones letting one know where the curb was. 

The car flew onto the two lane highway as Deacon watched Blue take off her mask. 

He smiled pleasantly, "So how was your day, dear?" 

The police sirens started as a distant hum. He knew they would soon be preparing to ring loud enough to drown out his well meaning conversation so he hoped she was in the mood to talk fast. 

She threw the bag from under the glove box at Mac and Deacon glanced in the rear view to see him begin putting together pieces of a rifle. 

"It could have been better," she sighed, "Got stuck in line at the bank, almost late for an appointment." 

Mac tore of his mask and turned to glance behind them, "Deacon how am I supposed to shoot them with this  _ giant  _ gun if you haven't already broken the back window-," 

Deacon held a hand up and watched in the rear view until he had Mac's attention. "Mac, buddy, this car is a 2003 Cadillac CTS. It was featured most prominently in the movie The Matrix: Reloaded." 

Hancock took off his own mask and rolled his eyes, "Jesus Christ, here we go."

"Shh, in this movie there was an impressive car chase. Probably the only impressive thing about the movie, honestly. Even Keanu seemed bored-" 

"Deacon!" Blue snapped. 

He saw what he guessed was every cop from the small town's police station, "So it means it's at least cool enough to have a moonroof." 

He turned the knob that allowed the glass roof open and Mac climbed out the top of the car, bracing his legs on the center console.

Hancock rolled down a window as the first crack of Mac's rifle sounded, "Moonroof?" 

Deacon shrugged. "No idea, Cadillac is too cool to say sun roof?" He was pretty sure there was a difference but he couldn't remember, busy running from cops.

Hancock gave him a wild smile and leaned out the window and provided spray and pray while Mac's very precise shots took out important things allowing the cars behind them to continue to pursue them. (Tires. gas tanks, windows, people.)

Deacon kept his eyes on the road, these back roads fucking sucked for one reason. "Blue now!" 

He moved to keep the car on path around the tire eating bitch of a pothole as Blue wrapped her arms around Mac's waist to steady him. He figured while she was there he might as well pull a fun maneuver. 

He threw the car around a corner and turned them briefly off the road. The car kicked up dust and sand as he steered it back on to the road towards the cops. He hears a brief, "Warn a fucker!" from Hancock that he belatedly felt guilty about.

See Deacon was willing to play a fun game with the cops that so far he's always won. (That one time in Cincinnati didn't count. They didn't die, so.)

Chicken. He was very, very good at Cop Chicken. Because in robbing small towns with Blue's crew he quickly realized that most middle aged cops nearing retirement aren't willing to risk their lives against a manic bank robber with a death wish. It might make them late for dinner. 

He regained the speed he lost in the turn and waited for the cops to break formation as he heard Hancock yell delightfully creative and descriptive insults at them. 

Blue's face was pressed against Mac's lower back as she anchored him. 

Deacon glanced at her before choosing the two cops he decided were most likely to chicken out and break formation. "You know I often wonder why these guys do this, you know? Go get the money for their capitalist overlords. What do they think the banks will do, give them a monetary reward?" he watched as the one officer seemed to notice the precision of Mac's shots and wobble as he was looking for a way out. Bingo. 

"I mean, at the end of the day, these banks have stolen years from their lives to ensure what exactly? That's their kids will have to work just as hard?" he straightens out to aim at the singular cop car. "That's asinine."

Blue laughed as Deacon leaned forward in his seat making eye contact with the cop. 

And God bless him as he swerved out of the way.

Their car burst through the line of cops and he waved at one on his left that only thought to ram them after they were too far gone. Mac took out their tire moments after anyway causing the car to jackknife into it's neighbor and create their own uniform car pile up. 

He smiles at the touching scene of nature following its course. 

He knew this part. It worked almost every time. He just really had to know what the fuck he was doing to not lose control of the car. Thankfully he felt he knew what the fuck he was doing. 

He sometimes wished that they could keep the same car for an extended period of time, but alas. Twas the life he had chosen. 

He yelled at Blue, "Hancock!"

She slapped his ass to get his attention to get back in the fucking car before grabbing the front of Mac's shirt and pulling him down into the vehicle onto her lap. 

He turned 180, keeping control of the car with experience. He noticed Hancock's grip on Blue's headrest but also the casual way Blue was turning the knob on the moonroof to seal the car up. 

When they shot past the pile of cop cars, he slowed down to a reasonable 120 and waited a moment to see if the straggling cop cars followed them. 

When they didn't Hancock yelled, "THAT'S RIGHT MOTHERFUCKER!" and an anxious burst of laughter peeled from Mac. 

Deacon smiled and Blue dumped Mac back into his seat in the back before climbing next to him into Hancock's lap. Deacon didn't need to look to see to know her tongue was down his throat. Mac popped up next to him in the front seat. Deacon was impressed with all the seat swapping shenanigans, the car didn't really allow for that much movement without effort. 

He smiled at Mac even as a faint groan spilled from the backseat. 

Mac's cheeks had high color even as his hands trembled slightly with the let down of adrenaline. Even as a murderous bank robber he still got blushy when Blue did her thing with Hancock. He sometimes wondered if robbing banks was all a very intense form of foreplay for them.

To be young and in love. 

Although Blue and Hancock weren't  _ that _ young. Hancock was on the downward slope of his 40s and Blue he thought couldn't be far behind? He didn't know a ton about any of them if he was being honest. 

Mac pulled a hat from the gun bag that Blue had handed him earlier with the rifle and he tugged it on. He yanked the brim over his eyes as Deacon felt the need to maybe tilt his rear view mirror out of the way to give them privacy. That wasn't safe however and it didn't seem to ever bother them being watched. 

Once while Hancock was balls deep in Blue he had looked over her shoulder and fucking winked at Deacon. 

So Deacon just ignored the smell of sex soaking the car and focused on remembering where he parked their secondary vehicle. He was pretty sure it was 75 miles off the silo with the faded blue stripe but it could have been 69. He liked to make jokes with himself. No one else was. 

He watched the miles tick by, timing it out as he ignored the sounds of Blue getting close and the tightening in his jeans. He's only human. Mac meanwhile is collapsing in on himself like a dying star. His knees are drawn up to his nose and his hat is pulled over his face, the brim touching his knees. 

"Mac," he tried calling his attention away. 

Mac didn't make any acknowledgment he'd heard him. 

"Mac, how bad were we shot up?" 

Mac tilted his head to peek at Deacon, "Not too bad. Notable though. Do small town cops have a shooting range?" 

Deacon chucked, "I don't think so."

He watched them creep towards 69 and kept his eyes peeled for the surrendered green little Nissan. 

They passed it and he rolled his eyes as he turned the car around. He hoped they finished before he got back to it. It was always weird transferring the money from one car to the other around them still fucking. But time was of the essence. 

When he put the car in park she rolled out of Hancock's lap. She seemed surprised at first when her ass hit paper before realizing one of the money bags had tipped over. She cracked up and Hancock joined her and Mac got out of the car the moment he was able. Deacon watched him open the driver's seat of the Nissian and take the white rag out of the window before popping the trunk. 

He got out to help while Blue and Hancock straightened themselves out. 

Mac pushed the big empty suitcase into the back and Deacon started loading the money into it.

They dumped their bags and backpacks in, Mac taking a moment to even unload a few wads of hundreds he's shoved in his pockets. 

He really liked that about Mac. He wanted, and usually rightfully deserved, the largest share. However he never held out. He always shook out his pockets and bags to make sure that the biggest cut was off of every penny he had brought in. Had said in the past that he wasn't going to steal from his crew. 

Deacon wondered where his notion of honor among thieves came from. But then he'd put Mac in his mid twenties so possibly he was still hopeful. He would have said younger but the military experience the kid carried aged him up slightly. 

They finished loading their new car and Deacon drove the Cadillac over to the other side of the road and faced it the wrong direction. He grabbed the only thing remaining in the car, his gun, and handed it to Mac once he'd crossed the street. Mac took it and held it up accusingly at Deacon. Deacon realised he'd left the safety off and shrugged. 

Mac shoots the hell out of the car, they wanted the cops to think they really fucked them up. He purposefully hit the gas tank then waited a moment before firing to ignite it. Deacon felt a weird urge to salute as it went up in flames. He felt somehow he'd made Trinity proud. He wonders if he should buy a leather trench coat. 

He climbs into their much shittier car and takes off the black hoodie he was wearing. Mac is still changing pants and Blue and Hancock are falling asleep in the back seat but already dressed. Since Deacon didn't actively go into the banks he has less bank robbing clothes to shed. His white t-shirt and jeans cleared him for the average joe before Mac got in the car. He pulled onto the highway, content to drive the next 300 miles until they found themselves a shitty motel. 

Roughly 6 hours later they pulled into the OK Motel. Which Deacon somehow found charming that they weren't even pretending they were good. Just OK. 

They got separate rooms, Blue and Hancock in one, he and Mac in the other. Standard, normal. Hancock got the room under the name John Sams and when the man behind the desk called out John to let him know he'd dropped something, Hancock had looked. 

Deacon filed it away as something he'd never ask about, but liked to know. Everyone knew to respond to cover names but typically that was a last name. He'd too easily acknowledged John. 

Deacon mentally shrugged and went to get his things from the car. 

Their rooms joined together and they had the door opened while they counted. 

It was quick and efficient, they had this down to a science. The little money scales helped a lot. 

When they divided their cuts, Deacon pleased with his being more than he expected, the door between rooms shut and Mac went to shower. As he always did. Deacon knew it was to rub one out. He'd had six hours of driving to chill him out, but Mac had remained tense and wiggly the entire time he'd been driving. 

Deacon lovingly lobbed a bottle lube at him before he made it to the bathroom door. Mac flipped him off. He had bought the lube literally to throw at him. 

He noticed Mac took it though. 

Deacon waited until the water cut on before closing his eyes. He could hear the sounds of Mac getting undressed. He knew Mac knew what he was doing. There was a reason Mac always gave him the bed closest to the bathroom. 

He heard the shower curtain protest as it was pulled closed and in a very Pavlovian response his dick was hard. He always wondered what Mac thought about in there, who Mac thought about. Was it Blue? Whispering his real name while she rode him in the back seat? More enticing, for at least Deacon to imagine, Hancock? Was Mac thinking about bouncing up and down in his lap while Hancock said a little too loudly what a slut he was. How good of a whore he was taking his cock?

Hancock didn't know how to whisper, he'd heard the shit he said to Blue. 

His personal favourite, for obvious reasons, was to think Mac imagined him. 

He wanted to think Mac liked the idea of knowing Deacon was here on the other side of the wall getting himself off to Mac. He liked to try to imagine what Mac was thinking about. If he thought about Deacon getting into the shower behind him. 

He'd like to think they had the kind of relationship where he could kiss Mac's neck. Drag his blunt fingernails down Mac's torso. Hear Mac gasp if he caught a nipple in his path. 

As if on cue Mac groans a little. 

Deacon closes his eyes and gives it to his Mac in his mind's eye. He's stepping away from wondering Mac is thinking about instead into his own fantasy. He just wants to know if he should theoretically pin Mac against the wall of the shower and drop to his knees or make him face the wall and find the lube. 

He decides to entertain the second one as Mac gasps in the shower. Deacon's hand speeds up before slowing down, matching the rhythm in his head that he's using to open his Mac up. Scissoring his fingers in slow succession, working his way up to Mac being able to take him. 

The sound of skin on skin drifts from the bathroom and Deacon pulls his t-shirt into his mouth to stay quiet. There's a pause and Deacon imagines it is a moment Mac is taking to move his leg up to the lip of the tub. He hears something in the bathroom fall over and complete silence like Mac is waiting to see if he spooked him. It was too heavy to be the tiny shitty motel shampoo bottles. He definitely dropped the lube. 

Deacon moans, quietly. But through the walls he knows Mac must have heard it. The silence stretches another moment before Deacon hears a sharp little cut off noise that isn't quite pleasure, more surprise? 

Oh God, is he fingering himself? Has he- fuck has he done this before?

Deacon wants it to be him. He wants to be pressing into Mac with certainty and control. He wants his confidence to bleed through so Mac knows he's safe and he can do this. He knows how to drive cars fast and keep his movements slow. 

There's a moment where Deacon lets himself take his time with fantasy Mac, who is fighting for his attention with real Mac. Real Mac is being awfully fucking quiet right now so fake Mac is going to have to do. Fake Mac with his little gasps and moans. His skin that would have no reason to still smell like gunpowder but in his head did, the little sunburn high on his cheeks from where they switched cars. He was so fucking fair, he burned so easily. Deacon wondered if that meant he marked easily too. 

Mac in reality gasped and the sound of skin on skin returned. Deacon hoped he still had a finger in himself. Fuck, he must be so tight. 

Dream Mac was ready though. He wanted to feel the water slicked skin of Mac's hips as he held him and slid in. He could almost feel his arm sliding across the wet of Mac's chest to place a hand on his throat even as Mac faced the shower wall. 

When he hilted in Mac, real Mac cried out. It sounded raw and torn from him, like he hadn't meant to make a noise. Deacon wondered if that was him finding his prostate. The whimper following the surprise noise told him yes. 

He fucked fantasy Mac in time with the noises real Mac was making. Fantasy Mac had Deacon's hand pressed against his throat, cutting off the noises that real Mac was trying to tamp down. 

He sped up as Mac did in the shower, the skin on skin slap becoming more erratic. He heard Mac come. A choked noise that fueled his own hand on dream Mac's throat. He tightened the hand on his dick to mimic Mac's tensing up and came over his own hand, a groan he didn't bother to stifle left his lips. 

He didn't have time to bask in it. He knew there was a weird balance that had to be in place.

He took off his shirt immediately and wiped himself down before pulling up his pajama pants and rolling to face away from the bathroom. 

He willed his breathing to go back to normal. He sounded mostly normal, maybe even falling asleep when he heard Mac creep from the bathroom. He dropped something by Deacon's foot on the bed and crawled into his own. 

He listened for Mac to fall asleep, he supposed his military training was as useful as an orgasm for falling asleep wherever. Both had Mac at the advantage. 

Deacon leaned down and grabbed at what Mac dropped and found the bottle of lube, still a little wet and also sticky around the cap where it hadn't been. 

He'd rob whatever bank that little shit wanted him too. Maybe he'd use part of his earnings and get Mac something nice. Like his favourite food or a Rolex. He had time to think about it as he closed his eyes and counted dollar bills.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on twitter! @BDeCardinal


End file.
